City of Music
by AlexandraRoux
Summary: When Tom aquires a Renaissance style flute, he is transported to Verona, the City of Music in Talia. This is set about sixteen to seventeen years after the end of City of Ships, and the focuses on a younger generation of Stravaganti.
1. Prologue: The Conductor

**Prologue – The Flute Maker**

It was early morning in Volana. A pale sun shone through the cool mist that shrouded the seemingly abandoned streets. These streets, that had been full of raucous partiers only hours ago, were now deserted except for an old man walking though the remnants of the celebrations. His leather-clad feet cleared a path for him through the multi-coloured streamers as he looked around at the jumble of tables, hastily moved aside to make way for any carriages that need access to this part of the city. Even though he knew there would be street cleaners out soon, it still saddened him to see the streets of his city left in such a mess. Pepo Fiumicino was on his way back to the Conservatorio di Musica, the central building of Volana. Pepo brushed away a strand of the shoulder-length silver hair framed his face. Anyone who had still been out on those streets would have seen that he was deep in thought.

Letting himself into his study at the Conservatorio, Pepo sighed. He had been the head conductor for 50 years now. It really was time for him to hand over the title, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Conservatorio had come such a long way in fifty years and there wasn't anybody suitable enough to take over. On the desk opposite the window laid a wooden flute, brand new and waiting to be played in concert. Pepo Fiumincino was known for his flutes throughout Talia. Any professional flautist could tell you that a Fiumincino flute made the best sound by far. The caramel coloured flute on his desk could easily be sold for a high price, but Pepo had another idea for it. Next to the flute was an ornate hand mirror, its silver frame engraved with a variety of musical symbols. Glancing into it, he saw the face of another man looking up at him. Pepo recognized it as Rodolfo, the father of the Duchessa of Bellezza and quickly picked it up. Behind Rodolfo Pepo could see an arrangement of corteo cards but from his angle, he could not read them. His attention was quickly brought back to Rodolfo as the Bellezzan thought spoke three words: _It is time._


	2. A Performance Like No Other

**A Performance Like No Other**

Barnsbury Comp's hall was filled with beautiful music. It was the time of year where the school held their 'Music In May' performance. All the talented musicians in the school played one of their favorite pieces. Thomas Mills was coming to the end of his chosen piece. He was the only student who had played a piece they had written, but it sounded as though it was a classic. Tom had been so pleased when the brief for his year's GCSE music composition had been to compose a piece of western classical music. Whilst writing 'Il Suono Dell Amore' he was in his element; where everyone else had struggled, Tom had succeeded, and his was on set for a very strong A*.

In the school hall, the audience had been told the story of two lovers, with the music following the events of them falling in love. Where they music had swelled, they were on the edge of their seats, and when it dropped to an almost inaudible pianissimo they sat in silence, no one daring to breathe incase it interrupted the flow of the music. Each audience member had been transported to their own world, where they remembered their own love stories, or imagined those they still had to come.

After Tom's last note he waited in anticipation for the audience's reaction. This was the part he hated. Not knowing whether he would be accepted or shunned. He took his silver flute from his tired mouth and one by one the audience stood to applaud him. One look at their amazed faces and Tom knew that he had succeeded. So many people are anti-classical music these days; he always knew it was a risk to play something like that. Quickly he took his bow and walked off stage, almost wishing he could have performed for longer. When he was playing he could feel himself coming alive - he could be himself without his shy inhibitions holding him back.

Next door to the hall was a foyer where the rest of the performers were waiting. Tom sat back down in the corner, and collected his things together. There was no, "How did it go?" from his fellow musicians; they were too busy in their own, pre-defined cliques to care what Tom had performed. He played the wrong type of instrument to be needed in their bands, and he was too shy to talk to any of them without a reason. Tom didn't have any friends in the audience either – to tell the truth, he hadn't really made any friends in the nine months he had been at Barnsbury. He had never given anybody the chance to get to know him – he would rather be practicing in the music block than socializing outside.

**~TALIA~**

The narrow streets of Bellezza echoed with the sound of clashing swords. Two young people were engaged in what a ferocious duel, neither letting the other take the lead. Suddenly, with a smooth maneuvring of the wrist, one succeeded in disarming the other. One of the boys fell to the floor, overshadowed by his opponent, a sword pressed against his neck.

"Falco di Chimichi, do you surrender, or will I be forced to drive this sword right through your neck?" A surprisingly feminine voice spoke, and the victor removed a black plumed hat to reveal the feminine features of a girl. A mischevious smile played across her lips and her eyes sparkled in the Talian sun.

"Isabellina, you do know you weren't actually meant to cut me. Look, I'm bleeding." Falco clutched his wrist and rolled over, seemingly unnerved by the proximity of her weapon to his throat. With a gasp, Isabellina dropped her sword and dropped down beside him. She'd thought she hadn't touched him, but of course she was still getting used to the metal sword that Falco had given her.

Almost as suddenly as she had disarmed him, Falco had her pinned to the ground with the silver dagger he kept in his belt at her throat. Isabellina's violet eyes widened with surprise at the sudden change of events before changing into a look of contempt. It was the first time since he had started teaching her to fight that she had won, and now he had managed to turn it into his win. Sensing her annoyance with him, Falco teased her:

"Oh, it looks like I win again Miss Crinamorte." He chuckled, before releasing her. He was met with a torrent of indignant complaints:

"That was not fair Falco! I thought I might have really hurt you – I'd already won! In any case I did all the hard work by disarming you and – hey! You're not even hurt. My mother was right about you: di Chimichi scum!" Falco laughed at her which enraged her further. His chocolate eyes met hers and he could tell she wasn't really mad at him, just a bit annoyed. He had know her all her life and she was his best friend, despite neither of their parents being happy about it. Over the last year he had secretly been teaching her the art of sword fighting - something he was learning himself fom his father, Fabrizio di Chimichi. In fact, the move she had just used against him was one of his signature moves. Inwardly he smiled; proud of how far she had come. To humour her, he did his best to look upset.

"Di Chimichi scum? Is that really what she calls me? I thought you might have convinced her otherwise." It wasn't the first time the feud between the Crinamort and the di Chimichi families had come up between them.

"Er no... It's just… Oh Falco, you know I didn't mean it. I just don't like you winding me up." He smiled at her, and she realized she hadn't affected him at all. Isabellina smiled back, and Falco stood up, brushed himself off and offered his hand to Isabellina. Laughing at his gentlemanly gesture she stood up on her own, and sighed as she realized she had ripped a hole in the breeches she had borrowed from Falco. She couldn't fight properly in her long dresses, so whenever they got together, Falco would bring some clothes for her to borrow. She knew this was Falco's last day in Talia – his father was here visiting her mother for a state visit; she assumed it was another attempt to get Bellezza under di Chimichi rule. Isabellina knew it was a wasted visit. Her mother the Duchessa would never let Bellezza go. The Grand Duke was returning back to Giglia tomorrow, along with Falco, and Isabellina didn't know when she would see her friend again. The only positive to this was that she knew that she would have plenty of time to fix the hole before she would need them again.

Falco walked her to the hidden recess where she would change back into her finery before heading back the where he was staying in the palazzo. Even though most people would assume they had been together, he knew it wouldn't do for them to return together.

"I'll see you at dinner Isabellina," were his last words to her, before setting off, hoping that they hadn't been gone from the palazzo too long.

**-ENGLAND-**

Tom received various words of congratulations on his performance the following day at school. He graciously accepted their compliments, and he was pleased that it had gone down so well. For once he enjoyed his day at school – normally he only went because he wanted to make something of his life, and he knew that he needed to do relatively well at school to do that. He knew the people paying him attention wouldn't last though, it never did. Tom hadn't always been pessimistic about life, but the pressure of exams and moving to a new school hadn't brought out the best in him.

At the end of the day he walked happily home from school. He only lived a few streets away, so normally he was home within five minutes of the final bell going. Today however, there was something going on at the top of the road. As he approached, he saw an old man standing behind a table covered in an assortment of items. The man was dressed in clothes that looked old-fashioned: a ruffled off-white shirt, and black trousers. What looked like a deep blue cloak was thrown over a suitcase. Tom assumed he must be into the 'vintage' look, although what the man was wearing wasn't quite what sprang to mind when someone said vintage.

The items on the table looked as ancient as the man behind it. There seemed no theme to them, and they were all marked with prices. It must be some kind of jumble sale, Tom thought. Tom was about to walk past it when one of the objects caught his eye. It was the only one that looked new, although the design of the flute looked straight out of the Renaissance period. Tom picked it up and turned it over in his hand. The wood was smooth; the holes were perfect circles.

"How much is this please?" Tom asked. From the moment he saw the flute he knew that he must have it – it was beautiful.

"Play it for me first young man, it can only go to someone who deserves it." The man had a curious accent, it sounded almost Italian. Somewhat taken aback by this request, Tom hesitated, then brought the flute to his lips. It was different to playing his own, silver flute, but soon he got the hang of it, and played he start of 'Il Suono Dell Amore'. It sounded even more beautiful on a flute made for that style of music, and he saw the old man's eyes starting to well up.

"It is perfect for you. Treat it well, I am trusting you with one of my own creations."

"But… Don't you want money for it?"

"No, your money will do me no good – the flute is a gift from me. I can see in your eyes you are not a happy person, maybe this flute will do you some good."

"Th-Thankyou" Tom stammered, smiling at the man. He hoped that the flute would make him happier, but he doubted that it would. What could this wooden flute do for him that his own could not? Tom didn't know, but somehow, he knew that the peculiar old man was right.


	3. The Magic Flute

[Type text]

**The Magic Flute**

Two minutes later Tom was home. He threw his bag next to the door and headed upstairs to his room. He was halfway up the stairs when his mother called him:

"Tom, come here." Inwardly he groaned. He had wanted to shut himself away and get to know his new flute but now he realised that was never going to happen. Walking into their sitting room was like walking into a brewery. The smell got worse the closer he got to his mother. She was lounging on the sofa, a bottle of wine in her hand. Tom wondered how many of them she had gotten through today.

"You can make yourself dinner tonight – I'm going out. There's probably some beans in the cupboard or something or you can go down the chippy, I don't care." She didn't say who she was going out with and Tom didn't really want to know. Ever since her and his father had split up and she had lost her job she had been trapped in a downward spiral. Tom was used to cooking himself dinner and he was pleased that it wouldn't take him long to do. A part of him was pleased that he'd be alone tonight – there was no risk of being shouted at for practicing his flute. For the time being he decided to make a start on the homework he had, after all, he decided, those GCSEs weren't going to pass themselves.

After ten minutes Tom realised he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on his homework. All he could think about was that wooden flute he had been given. He had brought it upstairs with him and it was now lying on his desk in front of him. It looked out of place next to his mobile phone and music player; it looked as though it belonged in another century. Had that man said he had made it himself? It must be new then, but it looked nothing like the 16th Century flutes he had seen before – they still looked modern, no matter how much the maker tried to age it.

**~TALIA~**

The Duchessa of Bellezza was pleased that the Great Duke's visit was over. Everything had gone well, and surprisingly there hadn't been that much pressure put on her to hand over Bellezza to the di Chimichi. Maybe he was starting to realise that his efforts were futile. Also, as much as she hated to admit it, she never saw Isabellina happier than when she was with Falco. Ever since it had become clear that the two children shared a close bond Arianna and her husband Luciano had tried to stop them seeing each other but to no avail. Fabrizio di Chimichi was all too keen to nurture the friendship between them and Isabellina shared her mother's fiery defiance. Arianna smiled as she thought that if she and Luciano had been happy with Isabellina and Falco's friendship, their daughter probably wouldn't have been half as interested.

"What are you smiling at?" Arianna hadn't heard Luciano enter the room. She smiled wider at the sight of his black curls and handsome face.

"I was thinking about Isabellina..."

"And Falco? You know they saw each other again today?" said Luciano, his face becoming serious.

"How are we going to stop them? We've done everything we can Luciano. We were like the, once; do you remember when I eloped to Padavia to see you on my birthday as Adamo the peasant boy?"

"How could I forget? She's so much like you Arianna it's worrying." Luciano chuckled as he remembered how pleased he had been to see Arianna that day.

"Anyway, how did you know that they had been together?" questioned Arianna.

"Rodolfo told me."

"Oh Luciano, you can't keep spying on her!

His face became serious again as he said:

"I'm just concerned about her closeness to Fabrizio's son. I don't want her to become another part of his stupid games. I can't lose her."

**~ENGLAND~**

It took Tom a while to master the slight differences between this flute and his own, but it after an hour he could play it just as beautifully. For hours he played away on it, sometimes improvising, sometimes playing pieces he knew. He only stopped when he heard his mother opening the door, and he realised that he had never made himself any dinner. There was no time for that now, he thought, as he heard his mother stumbling up the stairs, shouting at him to turn off his light.

Tom lay awake for what seemed a long time, thinking about the flute. Eventually, when he realised he had no hope of getting to sleep, he turned his light back on and sat examining the flute. He noticed something that he hadn't seen before. In a tiny font down the back of the flute was written: Fiumincino. Tracing his finger along the engraving Tom began to feel drowsy. He leant over to switch out his light before drifting off to sleep, the flute still clutched in his hand.

**~TALIA~**

When Tom woke up the first thing he noticed was the humidity. When he had gone to sleep it had been a cold May night, but now it was stiflingly hot. Looking around him, he saw that he was in an office. At first glance it seemed like an office in a university that the scholar had furnished to match the old feel of the building but at a closer look, Tom realised that not only the furniture was old fashioned, so was everything else in the room. There was a silver-haired man sitting at the desk with his back to him with silver-hair that Tom recognised but couldn't quite place. Looking down he realised he was only wearing the boxer shorts that he had gone to bed in.

'Oh no, it's one of those dreams where I go to school in my underwear,' Tom thought, wishing his brain would invent some clothes. He also noticed he was holding the wooden flute.

"Ah, so that explains the old fashioned setting." Tom mused aloud, causing the man in the chair to turn around. After seeing his face, Tom recognised him.

"You're the man with the flute! Wow, this is a strange dream."

"You're not dreaming," said the old man. "My name is Pepo Fiumincino, head conductor of the Conservatoire di Music in Volana, in a place called Talia. You're what is called a stravagante; the flute you are holding is your talisman and all you need to do is fall asleep holding it to travel from your world to ours." All Tom could do was stand there wishing he could take it all in and trying to go along with what Pepo was saying.

"You'd think I'd be great at English with this imagination! Maybe this could be the story behind Mozart's 'Magic Flute'. " Tom joked, before realising the man hadn't really understood him. He looked as if he had never heard of Mozart, something Tom couldn't quite comprehend.

"Well, you need to put these on; you can't walk around wearing...those." Pepo handed Tom a pile of clothes, which Tom put on over his boxers.

"That's better, now, what is your name?"

"Tom. Well, really it's Thomas, but everybody calls me Tom."

"Tom... In Talia you will be called Tommaso. Remember that. Right, if you would follow me, I will show you around the Conservatoire."


	4. Chapter 3 Unfinished

**Chapter 3**

**Sorry this is unfinished, I just thought I hadn't updated in a few weeks, so as I had this it's better than nothing I guess :) Once exams are over I can concentrate on writing a bit more though, so hopefully the updates will be faster. Any reviews or comments would be greatly appreciated, and I hope you're all having a lovely summer :)**

**~ENGLAND~**

School the next day seemed to drag on forever. Tom found himself incredibly tired, as if he really had been up all night, walking around the Conservatoire di Musicia. Tom assumed it had been a dream, but there were parts of it that made him think otherwise; some of the detailed architecture in the rooms of the Conservatoire for example. He had never been to a proper music hall, however much he had begged his mother to take him, so the full sound that echoed out of many of the vast music chambers as he walked by couldn't have been something he had imagined. There were also weird words Tom remembered. What was it Pepo had called him? A stravagante. Tom had never heard such a word before and as soon as he got home he Googled it. Tom guessed that if was real, surely Google would have an answer for it. The first few pages showed that it was useless. The only websites that were showing up were Italian websites or dictionary sites telling you the definition of 'stravagante'. Apparently it translated into English as 'extravagant'. That's certainly what they are! Tom thought, remembering the ruffled shirt the conductor had been wearing. Nevertheless, Tom decided to fall asleep holding the flute again, because that another thing Pepo had told him, and he would see whether 'Talia' was really real or not.

**~TALIA~**

"Mother, I want to go to Volana." Isabellina's defiant tone made Silvia chuckle. She remembered when her daughter Arianna had worn that same expression when she first became Duchessa, and told her about the changing the rules about mandoliers. As a family, they were sitting in a smaller dining room eating breakfast. The main dining hall was saved for important meals, or if they were entertaining important guests. Today, the Bellezzan palazzo was quiet, which was why Isabellina had brought up the subject of Volana.

"Why dear?" said Arianna.

"Well, I play the violin very well, and I think I would benefit from the teachings of the musicians there. I would also like to play in one of their orchestras – do you know how lonely it can get when it's just me, scraping away on my violin..." Arianna rolled her eyes at her daughter. She did agree with what she was saying; she knew her daughter was talented at music. Rodolfo, who had been quiet up until now spoke:

"Are you sure it is not so you can be closer to your friend Falco, Isabellina? I hear Duke Alfonso has a lovely summer palace there, which would be just perfect for a young man to go for a holiday." His face was serious, but there was a twinkle in the corner of his eye that gave away the unserious way he meant the comment. However hard Isabellina tried to deny it, her blushing cheeks gave her away in an instant. It hadn't been the main reason for her wanting to study at Volana, but it was definitely a bonus factor for her being there!

"We'll think about it. Don't hold your breath though; you wouldn't be able to leave until next September anyway." Her father, Luciano finished the discussion with a sign to the servants that they had finished. Rodolfo took him to one side and said quietly:

"Be careful in your decision. Pepo tells me there is a new stravagante, Tommaso, and you remember the trouble that can happen around new stravaganti, don't you?" Isabellina caught the last part of his sentence as she walked past, back to her room. Stravaganti? She knew that word. It was something her father and grandfather were involved in, but she knew little about it. She remembered asking her mother about it but was told that she would know when she was older. By now, surely she was older so Isabellina was going to find out.


End file.
